Again(A Harry Styles Love Story)
by LynchIsMyLife
Summary: Harry and Heather were childhood best friends. There was always more to it than that, but neither one could admit it. When the two cross paths AGAIN, it's a second chance at love. But that's not how they see it.. Harry Styles Fanfiction **ON HOLD**
1. Chapter 1

***BOLD=FLASHBACK***  
Prologue

"Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes  
Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go  
But moving on from him is impossible  
When I still see it all in my head"  
-Taylor Swift, Red

**_Crash!_**

**"Harry," I whimpered. "I'm scared."**

**_Boom!_**

**I jolted again at the looming crackle of thunder outside. The room was dark, empty. The one flashlight that illuminated our little fort of sheets, chairs and pillows flickered, faltering as it struggled to keep the small space lit. I panicked. It was as if the weak glow was the last bit of light left in an otherwise dark universe. Tears pricked my child eyes and my heart dropped, but some hope returned as it kept up despite the scarce amount of fuel left in the batteries.**

**_Boom, BOOM!_**

**Another crash sounded and I felt electricity pulse through the air. That streak of lightning had come frighteningly close. Harry, whose presence I had all but forgotten in my fear, wrapped me in his ten-year-old arms.**

**"We're going to be fine." He smiled comfortingly at me.**

**I felt my mood lighten and it was as if he completely transported me out of the chaos to some place calm, and warm. The corners of my lips tugged up in an uncertain smile. I felt safe. Cared for. A feeling in which I had been unfamiliar with for the past few months, since my parents had been fighting.**

I remember that day so vividly. I had walked home from my bus stop after school one day to find World War III playing out in my living room. Things were broken all around and my parents were in each other's faces, screaming profanities unintelligible to my young ears. They didn't even notice that I was home. And they just wouldn't stop _fighting_. I tried to get their attention, but I went unnoticed even when I squealed in fright when Mum threw a vase across the room. I ran for the stairs and reached the steps just in time, narrowly avoiding the blow of a picture shattering against the wall where I was just standing a minute ago. I looked down from the third step to see our family portrait laying in a bed of broken glass before me. Tears streamed down my face and I called Harry up as soon as I got to the safety of my room. It was his house phone, and he picked up. He came over and snuck me out of my room and we ran away to his house where his sister, Gemma, and I got him to play Barbies with us until she and Harry's mum, Anne, went for a quick run to the store. They were only meant to be gone about thirty minutes, but a huge freak storm came. It was so bad that Gemma and Anne had to stay at the store.

**We held each other's gazes until a particularly loud round of repetitive lightning strikes hit all around us and I nuzzled my head into Harry's warm chest, still chubby with a bit of puppy fat. "Harry." I felt thick alligator tears roll off of my cheeks and into his t-shirt. He patted my back soothingly, but pulled back a bit when a gap appeared in the makeshift tent from the makeshift tent. Probably to fix it, but my grip tightened around him, restraining. "Don't go away," I whispered. "Don't leave me."**

I let a small tear roll off my now older, more defined cheek and over my quivering lips that, despite my utter sadness, still hold a smile as I peer longingly down at the picture of Harry and I as young kids.

**He looked at me with side eyes before his features softened. "I will never," He started, pulling me away slightly so that I could gaze into his vibrant jade orbs. "****_ever_**** leave you." I looked up from arched eyebrows at him. "What about when you're on vacation?... Or at school?" I asked. I was fully aware of Harry's increased absence since he moved up a school. He was two grades higher than me, after all.**

**He laughed as if what I had just said was one of the silliest things in the world.**

**"Even when I'm gone, I'm not really gone. It's like my mummy told me on my first day of school: I will always be with you." He said, pointing down to my chest. "In your heart." I smiled up at the older boy.**

**"Promise?" My tone was almost hopeful.**

**"I promise." He confirmed with a big, toothy grin.**

Harry always had a way of cheering me up. I smile upon recalling the sweet memory, even though he broke his promise. But really, it was a promise that a carefree little boy made to a scared little girl to calm her down. That was all, it didn't mean anything to him.

But it meant _everything_ to me.

I sigh a long, deep sigh and carefully, reluctantly place the photos in the rubbish bin along with the others.

I look up to the shelves above the fireplace and see the last one. The very last and most recent photo of Harry and I that I owned. I walk over and hold it gingerly in my hands, as if the frame was made of the most fragile and expensive Lenox. I look down at it and mile as I recognize the subtle, yet elegant and homely, decor of Harry's living room. Harry turned 16 that day, and I had turned 14 a mere three months prior. We smiled hugely as we hugged each other happily for the camera, with silly party hats adorning our heads. Party decorations and shredded gift wrappings were scattered all around us, littering the room with colourful confetti.

I can easily recall what I got him. An expensive silver chain with a simple, but beautiful, paper airplane pendant. It reminded me of Harry. He was the simple and flawless type of beauty, which held a sort of calmness to it, even when he could be anything but calm sometimes. He drifted effortlessly through life without a worry in the world. He was a free spirit, and his soul was unbound. Nothing could ever hold him back of put him down. He was just...content with everything, but at the same time adventurous and ambitious, maybe even a little eccentric.

As the thought crosses my mind, my free hand subconsciously to the exact same pendant from my memories. When I had to move to America with my dad, since he wanted a 'fresh start' after winning custody, Harry gave it to me.

_To remember him by_, he said.

But at the moment, the last thing I want to do is remember him.

_You stole my heart, Harry_, I think to myself. _Now give it back, you arsehole._

I sigh and direct my attention to the rubbish bin filled to the brim with framed photos of Harry and his family, or just Harry, and I.

I can't bring myself to throw them away.

I set the picture in my hand down on the coffee table and wander as if in a trance over to the hall closet, where I find an old cardboard box from the move-in and empty its contents carelessly onto the floor. I walk into the small living room of the flat I got when I moved back to England and carefully dug all of the pictures out of the rubbish bin, reliving each memory once again as I place them carefully into the cardboard box.

I lift the last picture once more, smiling as I twirl the silver paper airplane around my neck before adding it to the contents and taping the box back up tightly.

I even add a second layer so that I won't be tempted to open it again. I know that if it's ever opened again it will let all of the pain flood back into my world.

_Like Pandora's Box_, I think.

I carry it over to my bedroom and slide it under my bed before climbing onto the mattress and cuddling into my pillow under the duvet.

It will be a lot easier to forget about him now.


	2. Chapter 2

1

"Troubled times  
Caught between  
Confusion and pain, pain, pain  
Distant eyes  
Promises we made  
Were in vain, in vain"  
-Journey, Separate Ways

I walk down the busy London street as cars zoom by. It's so early in the morning that the sun hasn't even come up and my eyes sting from makeup and the fact that I woke up just a few minutes ago. It's absolutely freezing and I'm glad I wore a vest top and a jumper under my thick coat. I keep my head down, careful not to attract too much attention, but also studying everything around me. Liam walks right next to me, so close that every so often I feel his arm brush mine.

At the moment, we're both walking to Starbucks, where we both have a part time job. I met him when I applied for the job. The owner of the location, Dan, was out sick, so he put Liam, the manager, in charge of my interview. And we've been practically stuck at the hip ever since.

I'm completely zoned out of the conversation, but I know that Liam's rambling on excitedly about some footy game he saw last night. I, personally, couldn't care less about football, or any sport for that matter, but I always like to seem interested because it makes Liam happy. But football is the last thing on my mind.

My blue eyes flicker back and forth, sweeping the streets for a sign of him_._ Every time I see a head of curly hair, my heart stops, before I scold myself for still being so wrapped up in finding himafter three months of living in London with no indication that he even exists. I'm starting to think he was just a figment of my imagination all along.

Sometimes I wish I was beautiful like a model, so that I _would_ turn heads when I walked down the street. Surely then, he would be able to spot me easily through this crowd and we could finally pick up where we left off. I have so much to tell him. I have so much to _ask_.

Harry has always been the only constant in my life. I can't even remember a time in my past when I couldn't call him just because I got lonely or tell him about how some kid picked on me at school and have to refrain him from beating the bully to a pulp. So, naturally, being without him was like being without a, very large, part of myself. A hole in my chest; something was missing.

"Heather!" Liam suddenly yells in panic from beside me.

I jump from shock and flail around as he pulls me roughly by the arm. "What?!" I hear the sound of a car horn blaring in my ears, long and loud, and a red Audi swerves around me.

"YOU ALMOST GOT HIT BY A CAR!" Liam yells, letting go of my arm now that I'm safe with him on the sidewalk and throwing his own up in exasperation. I can tell by the look on his face that he was scared shitless.

I'm bewildered for a moment. "I did...?"

_What a stupid question! Of course I did, I saw the car for Pete's sake!,_ I mentally scoff at myself.

"YES!" He shouts at me. I cringe at the loud sound. "You need to be more careful, you could've been seriously hurt, love." He says with stern force.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry." I gush. He raises a brow, waiting for an explanation to why I acted so reckless and walked in front of a car. "I-I was just...thinking." I settle on the poor excuse.

His face hardens. "About _him_, huh." He rolls his eyes. I hate the way he says 'him', as if it's the most disgusting word.

I don't answer. Instead, I keep walking and pretend like he didn't say anything at all. He keeps long strides next to me, easily keeping up. "I'm right, aren't I?" He pushes.

"What does it matter." I bite back.

"It matters a lot! You keep looking around everywhere, like your life depends on finding him, not paying attention to anything. I see that look of hope in your eyes when you see a black Range Rover, or a guy with curls or RayBans. I know what you're doing, you're looking for him!" His voice seems to get louder with every word, and to make matters worse, it starts raining.

Ducking my head, I hug my coat tighter around my shivering frame and walk even faster. "So?!" I yell, getting defensive. He doesn't understand why I can't just let him go.

I keep up my brisk walk until I hear Liam's footsteps cease. "So I don't want you to get hurt when you realize you can't find him. This is unhealthy, Heather, and either emotionally or physically, this is going to get you killed." I squeeze my eyes shut before I turn around to glare at him. He knows that this is a touchy subject.

"And what if I do find him?" The question comes out as more of a statement. Like a demand or challenge, maybe both.

"The what will change?" The question takes me slightly aback. I consider it for a second, eyeing everything around me with a glare. My lips press into a tight line and I look up at the falling droplets, thankful it hasn't turned into a thunder storm, before looking back at my current best friend. I blink away the drops that fell on my face before answering.

"I haven't thought that far yet." I mean to sound strong and confident, but I fail miserably. I sound broken, my voice cracking a couple times. However, he doesn't soften this time.

"Exactly." His hair is now drenched from the rain and water droplets splatter all over his trench coat. "You never think."

At first I expect him to storm ahead to the coffee shop, which is only a few meters away. But Liam, being Liam, walks up to me before giving me a sympathetic look and taking my hand in a friendly gesture, leading me forward.

As we approach the Starbucks, we say nothing, and I take the opportunity to study his face. The traits that are usually innocent and lovable in a way similar to a puppy are now distraught, brow furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line in thought. It doesn't look right on him, to say the least.

It looks as if a million thoughts are running through his brain at the same time. And knowing him, none of them are concerning himself. My anger and hurt at his previous statements dissolves and all I can do is think of a way to bring that cute, warm smile back to his lips. But I've never been a goo on-the-spot thinker.

He opens the door for me and I utter a timid appreciation before going in first. The immediate, strong scent of coffee invades my senses, overpowering my stress and comforting me, as strange as it may sound.

I turn to Liam to see him still deep in thought, but the warmth of the shop was getting to him as well, and I smiled when the small creases which formed on his forehead smoothed out. His honey brown eyes refused to meet my dull blue ones as he walked behind the counter into the back, signing in to put the fact that he was here on time on record.

I really want to do something to mend the tension, but I can't think of anything no matter how hard I try, so I decide to give up and just let him sulk for a bit. Besides, I've done nothing wrong and he'll most likely be over it by the end of the shift. So instead, I sign in as well and pull on my apron that says 'Starbucks' in big letters before going to quickly, but thoroughly, wipe down tables before we open. I'm a bit of a neat freak, and besides, if I were a customer I would like the table I sat at to be clean.

When I'm convinced that all the tables are nice and clean to start the day, I look around to make sure that everything is in place. A few of the instant coffees on the shelves have fallen, so I rush over and arrange them perfectly in their spaces. Liam is getting the coffee maker all set up for me because it never works when I do it and spots me out of the corner of his eye with a smirk. "Still OCD, I see." He jokes. I smile, he got over it quicker than I thought. But that's Liam, he couldn't hold a grudge if his life depended on it.

I roll my eyes and retort a playful, "Still _nosey_, I see."

He chuckles and leaves me to be 'OCD' in peace. I decide to sweep up the small shop, even though people will probably just track more dirt and debris from outside anyway. But I don't care, I just want to make sure everything is perfect when we open. Mostly because any form of filth drives me crazy, but also because I've been hoping to get a promotion soon, so Liam can't give me a hard time about how he's a manager, which makes him 'superior', though I know he's only joking with me.

When I finish up, I can see the glow of the sun through the glass window taking up most of the entrance wall., and the world is brightening up. I smile to myself and go behind the counter to the left where the machines are to wait for the opening. Only a few minutes now. Dan usually stops by about ten minutes before opening to make sure that everything is in order. And just as the thought crosses my mind, he's at the door and walking in.

I rush around to the front counter to say hi.

"Hey everyone!" He exclaims cheerily. We're lucky we're such an efficient staff, because I've seen how he can blow up at people, especially new recruits, if they don't make an effort and give it their all. He's a no-nonsense type of boss. But also very nice. He really cares about this shop with all his heart, and I respect him for that.

A random string of happy 'good morning!'s chorus from all around the coffee shop.

"Wow! The place looks amazing. Who cleaned up?" I blush and try my best to sink into the wallpaper (I hate the spotlight), but as usual, Liam will have none of that.

"Heather did, Dan." He says proudly, hugging me from the side. I glare up at him, only for him to flash me a cheeky grin.

"Well done, Heather! I might see a promotion in your future." He winks. I laugh, but the other workers send me glares, apart from Liam of course, who is obviously proud of himself.

When we finally opened, Dan left. I let out a sigh of relief. Not because I don't like him, because I like my boss very much, but because I always felt pressured to be perfect when he was around the workplace.

I shake off the stress and immediately go to work behind the counter, taking the orders from the writing on the cups and making them with ease, apart from the fact that Kate's handwriting was really hard to read. I hand the finished lattes and frappes and various coffees to the designated customer. About an hour later, the rain stopped, and the sun came out fully, displaying a rainbow in perfect view from the window. I sighed happily, my previous worries of it turning into a thunder and lightning storm gone. I can handle rain just fine, it's the thunder and lightning that scares me to death.

"Another order, Heather!" Kate says, placing the cup on the ledge for me. I have a hard time reading her sloppy, slanted, but beautiful, handwriting. When I finally make out 'java chip mocha frappe', I get straight to work.

I fill the containers with the ingredients and press all the right buttons and in a flash, it's done. I spray the whipped cream and coat on the caramel and chocolate before walking over to the counter and leaning over it.

"Here you are, erm..." I feel incredibly rude for not reading the name first, and mentally facepalm before turning the cup to look for the name. Before I can find it, a voice I would recognize anywhere exclaims a surprised, "Heather?!"

I look up and there she is, gorgeous as ever with her hair perfectly styled and a confused look on her tanned face.

I look down at the cup in shock and there it is, in black Sharpie. The name of his mum.

"Anne?!"


End file.
